


Swan War

by Dreamkissed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Discord: Bellamione Cult, F/F, Good Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Multi, Only shades of gray, Pureblood Hermione Granger, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Tags May Change, Traditional Magics, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-05-13 18:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19257148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamkissed/pseuds/Dreamkissed
Summary: Muggleborns are descended from squibs banished from the Wizarding World.  Not all of them leave that world behind.  Some are waiting for the right moment.  Some hide the purest blood of all.  Others understand just what 'Toujours Pur' truly means.





	1. Chapter 0: Antebellum

The steady click of boots on stone brought Delphi’s attention out of the book she was reading.  She lifted her gaze from the text and spotted the familiar thick black hair approaching her.  Delphi made her annoyance clear when she marked her page and set the book aside.  Delicate fingers picked at her fine woolen skirts, subtly telling Cygnus what was more important to her.  She would not give her younger brother the undeserved respect he demanded.

“Delphi, you know you should stand when your betters approach.”  Cygnus glared down to his older sister, his posture displayed the intent to challenge her.  He had the same sharp features and withering gaze that all Blacks had, barely tamed hair hung in wavy ringlets.  He still wore his court dress, the faint smell of floo travel lingered about him.

“I stood for mother’s funeral.”  Her response was curt without being dismissive.  She continued with the folds of her dress until she was satisfied, or had made Cygnus wait long enough, she was never sure which.  

“I was not aware the Wizengamot was meeting today, I would have attended.”  She stood with a speed and grace few attributed to her.  Her wand was out with a similar speed, and she rekindled the fire in the hearth and added a log to keep it burning.

“It was an unexpected meeting.”  Cygnus kept his distance, not yet drawing his own wand, but staying wary of a Lady of Black with a wand in her hands.

“The meeting was not so unexpected that you were able to dress beforehand.”  Delphi seemed to glide across the floor; the skirts gave her movements the appearance of a specter.  She left the accusation like a hook and moved behind her desk.

“You cannot expect every mundane decision be run by former Chief Witches.  It would be mired madness.”  Cygnus’ focused his glare on the woman behind it, and the position it implied.  He moved closer, hands placed on the edge of the polished worn wood surface.

“I hardly call the Statute of Secrecy a ‘mundane decision’, Brother.  It concerns all of wizarding kind, not just those, currently…”  Delphi let the word hang for a moment, as if she needed to decide her next words, “…in power.”  She sat down in the chair and pulled a rolled up parchment from her stationary stand.

“And the alternative is what?  Consorting with muggles and magbobs like your Norman bastard friends?  Toujours Pur my dear sister.”  Cygnus tensed up as he fell for the bait.  His mistake was in his arrogance, that he could control the line.

“I would be careful with what you say Cygnus, Blacks are pure, regardless of who we choose to consort with.”  Delphi looked up to Cygnus and kept her face impassive for the time being.  She would let Cygnus dig the hole for himself.  “Potter, Peverell, Gaunt?  Which of us is playing in the mud here, dear brother?  Does Ulick Gamp suck your cock, or he yours?”

“At least we can see progress and the future.  You are stuck in the past with traditions and old ways, it’s time for new ideas, new leadership.”  Cygnus stood a little taller, in an attempt to intimidate his sister by his physical position.

“Is this about your silly notions of a ministry?  You dare defy the will of Lady Magic?  The Wizard’s Council has stood since before the Romans landed on our shores.”  Delphi shook her head and looked at Cygnus with disappointment, unimpressed by his strutting display.  “I am not sure if you are having delusions of power, or just delusions.”

“It is hardly delusional, simply ensuring proper inheritance and leadership, Lady Black.”  He spat the title almost like an insult, aware of his sister’s sensitive spots concerning the family name and legacy.

Delphi’s eyes narrowed as she stood slowly.  She lifted herself to her feet.  Magic seemed to swirl around her as she stared down at Cygnus, standing a couple inches taller than he did.  Her wand once more found its way into her hand, the tip twitched and tapped against the desk surface.

“Lady Black is correct.  I am the head of this family, and this house.  Those seats you so cherish in the Wizengamot are mine, you are merely the proxy for my voice.  Your implications are dangerously close to blood treason.”  Delphi watched Cygnus’ eyes, her mental barriers went up, and offensive spells floated towards her tongue.

“Treason is such an ugly word; I am merely talking about the natural rule of Man.”  Cygnus backed away slowly, his movements attempted to appear unconcerned by Delphi’s change in aggression.  His own hooks lay in wait despite him making no move for his wand.

The growl from Delphi filled the room, sparks splashed from her wand tip across the desk.  “The House of Black is under Morganatic rule.  No man has sat on the Blackstone throne for fifteen centuries, and as Lady Black, it will be so for fifteen more.”

“We will see sister.”  Cygnus bowed low and backed out of the room.  He made no effort to hide the smirk on his face.

* * *

 

“Clarion?  What’s the matter?”  Delphi took in her cousin’s harried appearance, the wand in her hand, and the dirt on the hem of her dress.  She took to her feet and had her wand out before Clarion could respond.

“Your brother and his allies, they are at the gates, a half dozen wands with him.”  Clarion turned on her heels and kept pace, a half step behind Delphi.  She let the magical wake from her Lady recharge her reserves.

“Of course he is.  He couldn’t wait to make a move.”  Delphi’s hands swirled with energy as she swept through the house.  Wards and barriers strengthened as she passed.

The barriers around and within Black Manor rippled visibly, charging with energy.  Other residents of the Manor gathered beyond the front portico, a dozen in all, wands ready in defense of their Lady and House.  The main doors slammed open as Delphi marched out.  The magic swirling around her gave her normally radiant red hair the look of a smoldering fire, her dark robes moved as if part of her.

“What is the meaning of this Cygnus?”  Delphi’s voice carried with a sonorus charm as she took her place in front of her line.

“A very impressive showing for your swan song, dear Delphi.”  Cygnus mocked her openly as Ralston Potter stood beside him, both in full armor dress.

“Miss Black!  By order of the Minister for Magic, you are to turn over all rites and titles to Lord Black.  Failure will be considered treason against the Ministry.”  Ralston called out, the order read from a parchment with a far too fancy seal and ribbon.

“I told you what would happen, dear brother, if you pursued this!”  She looked to those behind her.  “I will not hold fault against you if you choose to flee for safety.”  She shared a respectful nod with a few who apparated away.  Survival of the House was more important.

“A pity I can’t say the same.  Any who fail to bow to the rightful Lord of the Noble House of Black will be stripped of their magic and banished.  Any, who side with the traitor, if they survive, will be punished by exile to Azkaban.”  Cygnus followed his threat with a loud bark of laughter, daring anyone to remain standing with Delphi.

Delphi could feel several wands behind her point to her.  The growl, amplified by the sonorus charm forced them to take a step back.  “I warned you.  Enjoy your precious townhome.”  Delphi raised her wand; blue flame conjured to form a shield around herself with a silent gesture.  With her free hand, she grabbed onto the wards of the Ancestral Manor.  “Until you repent Cygnus!  None of your line shall be welcome on this land, and only a true Lady Black shall ever open these doors again!”

“Take her!”  Cygnus cried as three others behind Delphi stepped into the flames.  A red bolt shot from his wand into the swirling shield, sent wide by reflection off a shielding charm.

A rainbow of curses and hexes lit up the entry yard of Black Manor, scattered and flung by deflecting shields and counter-spells.  Eleven to four were bad odds on a good day, and by the time Delphi and her allies pushed the battle off the manor grounds proper, it was down seven to three.  Sindica Black stayed behind and gave her life so the Manor wards could solidify and Delphi and Clarion could flee.

As the magic and dust faded, Cygnus approached the disillusioned wards of the manor.  He spit the blood pooled in his mouth towards the wards.  “Let Delphi and her bastard line rot in the mud.  They would flee before the true Lords of magic.”  He walked back towards the other and helped them heal the injuries sustained.

* * *

 

Delphi and Clarion landed in a heap in a back alley in Dublin.  Clarion caught Delphi and moved her against a wall so she was leaning up against it.  She held her wand over Delphi’s wounds and muttered healing charms.  Despite the battle, losses, and the pain, the sight that hurt Clarion the most were the tears in Delphi’s eyes.  “What…”

Delphi cut off her closest cousin.  “We hide, we recover.”  She moved to stand up and quickly found out that she was not going anywhere for a while.  With a grumpy sounding sight, she let Clarion take care of her.  “We hide among the muggles, without our magic.  We wait for Cygnus and his line to become complacent, weakened.”  She lifted her wand and placed a cooling charm on a rag.  She draped it on her forehead.  She groaned softly as Clarion examined her.  “We take in the squibs he exiles, raise them aware of magic, but separate.  We don’t let them forget, and when it is time, they will restore our House to greatness.”

Clarion felt her pain ease at the sight of the hope within those tears.  “Your will be done, Lady Black.”


	2. Chapter 1: Parabellum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truest and most just causes are more than any one person, loyalty to madmen only results in tragedy, and while war is the continuation of politics through other means, war must give way to politics in the end.

The war was reaching the turning point, the core members of the Order were withdrawing from active battles, the Dark Lord’s favor within the Ministry was rising every day.  Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black was in charge of the plans to secure the ministry. The Ministry floor plans lay spread out on the table in the spare dining room-turned-war room of her sister’s manor.  Patrol routes of Aurors, worker schedules marked out in bold bright inks, assignments for Death Eaters and followers on parchment scraps, scribbled out and rewritten as the teams were organized.

The chimes rung, the charm her sister placed to let them know when someone apparated into to Manor.  Bellatrix lowered her quill and went to the door. Before she could open it, Severus Snape stormed in, half panicked.  The lack of his usual sneer or grandiose sweep of his billowing cloak clued Bellatrix in to the seriousness of his concerns.

“Snape?  You’re supposed to be at Hogwarts still.”  Worry tempered the sharp bite of her words and tone.  Her wrist twitched, itched to draw her wand from its holster at the mere implication of a threat or battle.

Snape’s reflexive sneer was notably lackluster.  “I was having a drink at the Hog’s Head. Dumbledore was interviewing a divination professor.”  He held up a piece of parchment in his hand, tight in a closed fist. “The interviewee appears to be a genuine seer.”

Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed at the paper, unsure if she wished to know the contents or not.  She may have gotten an O in her Divination NEWT, but she despised the subject. “He’s available.”  She looked over her shoulder and drew her wand. “WORMTAIL!” She gestured a small version of the Mark to cast the summoning spell.

Peter Pettigrew swiftly answered the summons, his fearful bow to the imposing Lieutenant almost horizontal.  “You called, Mistress Lestrange?” He visibly flinched at the look Bellatrix shot him. Her nod to the side directed his gaze towards Snape.  He had a momentary flicker of hesitation, split between his schoolyard opinion of Snivellus and his tenuous position among Lord Voldemort’s followers.

“I have an important message for Lord Voldemort.”  Snape’s tone clearly implied the order to escort. Ignoring that order, Pettigrew moved to take the message.  His sneer froze Pettigrew in mid-step. He lowered the fist that was holding the prophecy and held it against his robes before he turned toward the door that Pettigrew used to enter the room.  “I am to deliver it personally, Wormtail.”

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes with dismissive hostility, her trust in Pettigrew ended at the range of her wand.  She skipped the response and only snarled at the rat, she accompanied the snarl with a threatening snap of her teeth.

Wormtail bowed his head and turned quickly, not wanting either senior Death Eater to see the fear in his eyes as he led Snape out of the room.

* * *

 

The beaconing call from Lord Voldemort blossomed in Bellatrix’s head and shot down her spine.  Her hand twitched and her quill left a mark across the parchment that no longer held her focus.  The spark of pain reminded her of the Cruciatus curse and she wondered when he started adding that in.  Regardless of her thoughts, she drew up her Occlumency walls and marched towards Lord Voldemort's study.

Bellatrix entered the room currently used as their base of operations as they put final moves into place.  Her eyes fell upon her Lord’s form. The pacing, near manic state he was in troubled her. “My Lord, what is bothering you?”  She took a step closer, not entirely trusting he remembered her role and loyalty in his current state.

Voldemort turned and advanced on Bellatrix with fury in his red eyes.  He thrust a familiar paper into the face of his top Lieutenant. “This!  The Potter’s Heir will be my downfall.” He turned away and resumed pacing the room.  “I need to kill him before he can be hidden…”

Bellatrix read the paper and immediately recognized the tone and meter of a prophecy.  She also noticed that it seemed to be only half of the prophecy. She knew Riddle’s weaker subjects included Divination.  “Lord Voldemort? Did Severus not hear the rest of the prophecy?”

“You will address me as the Dark Lord!”  Voldemort turned with a loud hiss, Bellatrix recognized the hold he had on sanity and humanity slipping.  “Does it matter? The Potter heir will be my downfall! I must kill him now! Before he gains the power to defeat me.”

Bellatrix read the prophecy again.  As much as she hated divination, she felt there was something very important missing from the prophecy.  “It may. By the end of the week, it will be in the Hall of Mysteries. Our plans are still on track. We take the Ministry, declare victory, and once secure, you can recover the prophecy in full.”

The Dark Lord pulled his wand and turned on Bellatrix.  “Cancel those plans. Have all my Death Eaters track down the Potters immediately!  Failure will be punished. Go Bellatrix!” He waved his wand and opened the door behind Bellatrix with a loud bang.  He turned his back on her, the uncharacteristic dismissal hung in the air between the two.

Bellatrix kept her mind focused, controlled her response, and bowed her head.  “Yes Dark Lord.” She turned on her toes and swept out of the room. The snap of her heels against the stone flooring were the only show of emotion she let show until she was away from the Dark Lord's presence..

It had been years since Bellatrix faced a dismissal in that manner, and never alone, or for something as trivial as advising her Lord.  What was the worst of all was the look on his face when he drew his wand. The hate was clear in the Dark Lord's eyes; he did not see his second in command, only an underling who disobeyed his immediate orders.  The suspicions brought to her by Severus came to mind, the inhumane madness. That the Dark Lord would sacrifice the Cause on the eve of their victory for a boy was the definition of Madness.

* * *

 

Bellatrix sent lower ranking followers, newer members.  She would not cripple the cause by sending good wands to their deaths.  It did not hurt matters that many of the lower ranking and newer members were either fair-weather friends, or less reputable wizards.  She was not going to let things fail this close, even if their Dark Lord's mad obsession distracted him from victory. She moved through the castle and quickly found Lucius and Severus.  Without bothering with manners, she took both by the elbow and pulled them both to her secluded private wing in Malfoy Manor.

Lucius had come to expect the insistent behaviors and impatience of the Black sisters, but Severus did not attempt to hide his annoyance.  He wrenched his elbow free from Bellatrix’s grip and turned to face her. “What has your corset laces in a twist Bellatrix?”

Bellatrix narrowed her focus.  She quietly let her magic sweep the room as she let go of Lucius.  Assured of her silencing wards and no listening spells, she looked to the two men with a stark seriousness.  “The Dark Lord is going after the Potters.” She noticed the shock on Severus’ face but continued with her plan.  “Yes, I know your feelings for Lily, but that’s not important.” She looked to Lucius, her gaze held none of the usual playful friendly spite between the in-laws.  “Both of you, we need to be prepared for the worst.”

Lucius' casual air of arrogance faltered to a worried look under Bellatrix's gaze.  “The ministry plans?” He did not need Bellatrix’s answer; he saw it on her face. The disappointment in his gut coalesced into a lump of toxic fear.  “He has focused upon the prophecy?”

Severus looked towards the door, already planning his moves.  “Are you certain Bellatrix?”

Bellatrix moved towards a shelf, running a finger along the dusty edge, she did not trust the elves to clean her private sanctuary.  “Yes, he is obsessed. More so than usual, it’s laced with an edge of madness.” She looked towards Severus and let the disappointment show on her face and the confirmation slip past her barriers for him to see.  “Your suspicions, I’m starting to agree with you. We can’t let him jeopardize the cause this close to the end.”

Lucius’s surprise broke through his pureblood upbringing, he whispered harshly to Bellatrix.  “You aren’t thinking of betraying the Dark Lord are you?”

Bellatrix’s wand was in hand and pointed at Lucius before the words were out of his mouth fully.  All three knew her heart was not in it like it once was. “I am his top lieutenant; it is my job to see his goals completed.  Near as I can tell, taking over the Ministry and restoring the traditions and old ways are still the goal?”

Severus placed a hand on Lucius shoulder to calm him.  “Lucius, every king has those behind the throne. He would not be the first to be sat by the machinations of his most loyal.”

Lucius nodded, understanding of the changes that he would need to make.  “What do we need to do?”

Bellatrix closed her eyes and played through the plans and strategies in her head.  She snorted quietly, not quite a full snarl at the feel of Severus' probing of her mental barriers.  “Insurance. You have always been particularly squeaky-clean Lucius. Protect your family, and holdings, you need to be ready to publicly denounce the Dark Lord.  I will get you a list of token followers to sacrifice to the Ministry’s dogs. Severus? Go to Dumbledore. He needs to protect the Potters, find some protection for them, and yourself, do not be afraid to reveal knowledge of the Dark Lord’s plans.  You are second only to Narcissa in potions…”

Both men noticed her distinction between the Dark Lord and the Cause, both nodding silently and leaving the room to make their plans.  None of them would speak of them openly. Only necessities would be shared, and only if it was absolutely required.

Bellatrix turned to a bookshelf and pulled several tomes from it.  Voldemort, The Dark Lord was increasingly unstable and had no signs of poison, illness, or injury.  She had little time remaining to confirm if he made a Horcrux, and if so, where it was. It did not matter how wise he was, even manipulative old coots needed all the information to plan, and she did not trust others to ensure it got where it needed to go.

* * *

 

The Dark Lord was dead, defeated by an infant boy somehow.  The rank and file Death Eaters were in a panic, the Pureblood Loyalists were turning towards Bellatrix.  As for Bellatrix, the plans were as good as scrap and she had a choice, the Dark Lord, or the Cause. The answer was clear, and Bellatrix had little guilt over her choice.  The Cause came first.

A shout from the hallway broke Bellatrix’s thoughts, her husband’s voice heard approaching.  “Bellatrix! We found the Longbottoms!” He barged into the room, Barty Crouch Junior, and Rabastan trailing behind.  She briefly considered hexing the bastard on the spot.

Bellatrix’s glare went from the scattered letters and notes towards Rodolphus.  “And what do you think that will accomplish, Rod?” She turned her intimidating aura up to full.  She straightened her posture and let her wand slip into hand at a visible speed.

Barty laughed brightly and licked his lip with his reflexive manic twitch.  “Interrogate them for information of course! Find our Master and bring him back.”  His tone betrayed his own madness.

Rodolphus added in a dark tone that sent both rage and fear down Bellatrix's spine.  “Maybe have some fun too.” He ignored the glares Bellatrix and Rabastan gave him.

Bellatrix looked over towards Rabastan, the silent questions clear in her gaze.  The pair locked eyes, communicating without words or legilimency. She knew that Rabastan should have been the first born, the rightful Lestrange heir.  Perhaps a good thing that could come of this, and he could lead the Ancient House of Lestrange back to power.

Rabastan directed a mocking leer towards his older brother.  He accompanied it with a melodramatic flourish. He knew how to pander to his brother's whims in a way that avoided further attentions.  “Well lead on to this fun.” He gave a bright laugh and cheer, though Bellatrix saw how forced the cheer was to avoid his brother’s ire.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and feigned her battle-lust wildness as she motioned to the floo.  “Let’s go then! We’ll cover your backs.”

Rodolphus and Barty eagerly jumped into the green flames and called out the name of a Wizarding bar near the Longbottom’s place.  Once the two were away, she folded a piece of parchment up and pocketed it.

Rabastan took a handful of floo powder in his hand and looked back to Bellatrix.  “Are you certain about this? There won’t be any going back.”

Bellatrix stepped up next to Rabastan, taking a handful for herself.  “I’ll be leaving the Longbottom’s a widow.” She threw the powder into the flames, coloring them emerald as she stepped into the fireplace.

* * *

 

Rodolphus kicked the door open alongside Barty; paired shielding charms deflected the onslaught of hexes from the Longbottoms.  The pair moved forward to allow Bellatrix and Rabastan entry to the house. Bellatrix’s cackling distracted the Longbottoms from the fact her curses were going high or wide.  Rabastan took over the shielding duties, allowing the three others to cast offensively.

With a shared glance exchanged between Bellatrix and Rabastan, the pair struck from behind.  Bellatrix’s killing curse slammed into Rodolphus’ back with more than enough force when he dodged a blasting hex from Alice.  Rabastan’s incarcerous spell sent Barty face-first into a trio of Frank and Augusta’s stunners.

“HOLD WANDS!”  Bellatrix’s cackle turned to a confident bellow, as she lowered her own wand.  She kept the protego ready in the back of her mind in case the Longbottoms did not stop.

Augusta’s wand twitched, but she held back the stunner on the tip.  Frank was a little more trusting and lowered his wand. Alice stepped forward, her eyes on Bellatrix and her wand trained on Barty.  “What is the meaning of this Lestrange?”

Bellatrix tossed her hair and snorted with clear annoyance.  “It’s Black now. I thank you for doing away with my late husband.”  She nodded towards Rabastan after hocking a wad of spit out at Rabastan's cooling corpse.  “He’ll cooperate, more importantly; he’s never cast an unforgivable.”

Rabastan nodded in agreement and slipped his wand back into its holster.  He moved slowly, non-threateningly. “Voldemort is dead, there are things the Order needs to know about him.  Immunity and a pardon would be very nice, as would assistance in the Wizengamot to secure my house, and annul my sister-in-law’s marriage.”  He glanced towards Bellatrix and gave her a warm smile and respectful nod.

Augusta was still suspicious at the actions the two Death Eaters were taking.  “And what’s in it for you, Black? You are his right-hand, his top Lieutenant.”  Bellatrix felt relief at Augusta's quick acceptance of her new marital state.

Bellatrix holstered her own wand.  She dug into her pocket and pulled up a folded up parchment.  She tossed it towards Augusta. “A list of Death Eaters more loyal to Voldemort rather than the Cause, as well as several safe-houses they will likely use.”

Frank glanced to the list before going to secure Barty properly.  He made sure to keep him asleep until they could take him in for trial.  “You’re going to betray your 'cause' just like that? Because Voldemort is dead?”

Rabastan gave a shrug and moved towards a wall, giving the Longbottoms some space.  He made no move to run or attack. “The war is over; it’s time to rebuild, and to let politics guide the Cause.  Like I said, there are things the Order needs to know.”

Bellatrix started for the door, once more taking a casual, almost careless attitude.  “If you will excuse me, I must stop my idiotic cousin from making a big mistake, and bring a traitorous little rat in.”

Alice stepped forward.  She moved towards Bellatrix with a large amount of worry showing on her face.  “Bella. Why now? You could have had your revenge.” She nodded towards Rodolphus’ body.  Her breathless words betrayed her emotions. “You saved my life, after everything.”

Bellatrix looked up to Alice, the vitriolic spite almost visibly radiated off her, towards Alice.  “Don’t mistake this for anything, Fortescue. I hate you with every fiber of my being.” She spat the witch’s maiden name out as if a curse.  “But I’ll never stop loving you.”

Alice recoiled as if struck by Bellatrix's signature curse.  She attempted and failed to choke back a sob and a couple tears.  “I’ll make sure you get a full pardon, full immunity for this. I’ll make it up to you.”

Bellatrix paused in the still-smoldering door frame.  She looked back to Alice, in turn looking at Frank, the pictures on the fireplace mantel, and then towards the ceiling.  “You shattered my heart...Alice. Nothing can make it up.” There was only the briefest flash of regret visible on Alice's face before Bellatrix spun into a cloud of grey smoke and disapperated.

* * *

 

“You betrayed them, Wormtail!”  Sirius flung several hexes towards Peter, deflected by his shield into the bushes.  The sparks that flew from the impact caught the dry plants on fire.

“Don’t call me that!”  Peter laughed his high-pitched squirrely laugh as he kept giving ground in the duel.  His face held as he lead Sirius closer and closer to the trap he set. “And who’s going to prove it?  You? Everyone knows you’re the secret keeper.”

“I’ll let them know it was you!  Dumbledore will tell too!” Sirius advanced blindly, intent on keeping up the fusillade of attacks, drunk on his rage.  “You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

“Oh, and you think they’ll listen when you’re caught killing a dozen muggles, and poor innocent Peter?”  Peter pushed his power into the shield and flung it forward to force Sirius to stumble back. He turned to light the fuse with a spell when he ended up face to face with a swirling cloud of black smoke.

“Killing mudbloods is so last month.”  Bellatrix Black coalesced from the smoke, her wand pointed at Peter’s chest.  “Crucio!” She cried with her signature cackle, barely contained rage behind eyes glistening with pain.

Sirius recovered in time to hear Peter’s high-pitched screams of agony and his cousin’s mad laughter.  He charged forward, ready to cast, but was not sure who to attack now.

Bellatrix raised a hand in a gesture to stop towards Sirius.  “Now now little cousin, you know I can keep this little rat under and still kick your butt just like the old days.”  She pointed towards his wand and motioned for him to lower it. “Put it down, and get some sense into your head.”

Sirius took a step forward, his wand raised in a non-hostile gesture.  “I’m gonna take your word for that. At least on the ass-kicking part.”  He turned his gaze to the pain-wracked wizard at Bellatrix’s feet. “However he needs to die for betraying James and Lily.”

Bellatrix lifted the curse, giving Peter a break.  It would not do to drive him to madness before he could testify.  “Azkaban will do it for him.” She kicked Peter onto his back and muttered a slicing hex to reveal the Dark Mark on his arm.  “He’s a marked Death Eater. He will testify to his crimes, and accept the punishments decided. You however, need to go back to Remus, be happy.  The two of you have a godson to care for now.” Bellatrix bent down and grabbed Peter by his good arm. She hauled him to his feet and ignored any cries of pain or for mercy from his lips.  As useful as body-binds and levitation spells were, there was something primal, satisfying about an old-fashioned manhandling.


	3. Chapter 2: Reconstruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellatrix's reputation as a duelist applies to the courts as much as the battlefield, and the lines between good and evil blur as the dark begins to splinter. Meanwhile, the youngest Black learns the truth of her line and what that will mean for her future.

“Bellatrix Lestrange!”  Minister for Magic, Millicent Bagnold slammed the enchanted gavel down, the amplified crack of thunder sounded through the Wizengamot chambers.  The last of the major Death Eater trials drew the largest crowd. The right hand of Voldemort, the darkest witch of a generation faced the assembled Wizengamot.  It was only the fact she brought in Peter Pettigrew, accompanied by Sirius Black that kept the court from throwing her directly into Azkaban.

Frank Longbottom was entirely business when he sat Bellatrix down on the chair before the assembled court.  He was gentle when he bolted the manacles around Bellatrix’s wrists to the chair. He gave her a look that made it clear where the two stood.  There was nothing personal between them, simply soldiers on opposite sides of a war.

Minister Bagnold’s gavel banged once more to demand attention as her voice silenced the room.  “Bellatrix Lestrange, you have been called before this court to answer for your crimes. You sit here before the Wizengamot accused of the following…”  Bellatrix listened carefully to each one of the charges against her, split into two groups, lesser crimes, and the Unforgivables. “We have heard from several others for and against the accuser.  Does anyone wish to offer any further testimony?”

Albus Dumbledore cleared his throat and stood up from his seat.  He held an enchanted golden envelope in one hand. The gathered crowd of spectators leaned forward to listen carefully to Albus' words.  The magical letter was the legal equivalent of a wizard's oath for or against the subject. “I do. Permission to approach the bench Minister Bagnold?”  Bellatrix tilted her head with ample suspicion as she watched the exchange. Dumbledore approached the high counter before Minister Bagnold gave her permission.  He held the envelope out to the Minister, his voice clear without the Sonorus charm. “I offer sealed testimony...in favor of the accused, Widow Lestrange.” The spark of the enchanted note as Minister Bagnold took hold of it was lost in the gasps and murmurs of the crowd.  Dumbledore was officially vouching for the right hand of Voldemort.

Bellatrix met Dumbledore’s gaze, only to receive the same innocently cheerful and soft smile she always received since her first days at Hogwarts.  The crackling thunder of the Minister's gavel brought her attention back to the proceedings. Minister Bagnold's voice boomed across the chamber. “If there is no one else, the court shall hear from the accused.  What say you Bellatrix Lestrange?” The chambers went silent, all eyes upon Bellatrix.

Bellatrix's reflex was to stand up, but the shackles on her legs and wrists only allowed her to raise a couple of inches.  “First, for the record, several of those charges are false, crimes I did not commit.” Bellatrix then proceeded to detail which ones she did not commit, totaling nearly a quarter of the lesser charges.  She also offered to disclose the actual culprits or those she thought after the trial.

Minister Bagnold leaned forward in her seat, so far there was little to bring controversy, as there were still more than enough charges to send Bellatrix away for life.  Additionally the Aurors would be very satisfied at having a number of cold cases wrapped up. “And what benefit do you think refuting a handful of minor charges will have on this trial?”

Bellatrix only briefly met the Minister’s gaze.  She knew using the law alone would not refute the lesser charges.  With only a minor shaking of her chain to disrupt the deathly silence that had overtaken the assembled spectators, she began to look over the members of the Wizengamot, one by one, meeting their gaze as she spoke.  “I want the rightfully guilty to see justice. Punishing the innocent will only allow the guilty to go free. I will not shirk my responsibilities…" Her eyes settled again on the Minister. Despite the chains, her posture and tone conveyed the conviction she held as well as the subtle implied threat.  "…but I also will not take the blame for crimes I did not commit.”

She resumed her sweep and turned to the spectators.  She noted quickly those who were the ones she needed to convince and could be convinced.  She looked regal in the chair, sat upright and proper despite the restraints. The tone of her words carried a grace and power that her jail-cell tempered appearance lacked.  “Hanging a scapegoat will solve nothing, true and honest justice is the only way we can move forward. The war has ended, a mad Dark Lord has fallen and it is time for peace, for rebuilding."

Bellatrix paused; her eyes lingered on the most loyal and devout member of the Order.  "Many of us, victors and defeated fought for what we believed in our hearts and core. Many died for those beliefs.  I will not recant mine, to do so would profane the sacrifices both sides make."

She exhaled slowly, the beat in her speech more for effect than a need for air.  She picked out several individuals who lobbied the Wizengamot. "However, there is a time and place for battles, and a time and place for politics, and now is the time to recover, to repair what can be repaired, and mourn what has been lost."  Her eyes slid to several shop-owners, the ones she had directed or lead attacks upon their shops.

"There is no punishment I can suffer, no cost I can pay that will bring back all of what has been lost, but regardless of the verdict of this court, I offer my bridal dowry and an equal amount from my portion of the Black family vaults to fund for war reparations."  She settled on Molly Weasley, mother of seven. "We cannot take back the blood we have shed, but we can see to it that our children and our children’s children shall not repeat our sins.”

The silence filled the chamber with a nervous energy, most in the court chamber, especially those who would vote on her fate, knew the size and value of the Black-Lestrange dowry.  The symbolism of the words she spoke with offering it was not lost upon the crowd either.

Minister Bagnold cleared her throat, needing to recast the sonorus charm.  “The magnitude of your crimes is beyond what can be simply bought off, you were the right hand of the Dark Lord, and furthermore, you do not demonstrate guilt for your crimes.”

Bellatrix smiled, thin and bitter.  “I do not seek to buy my penance, only to pay my share of what is required to rebuild the society.  As for my guilt, I do not feel guilty for my intentions, only my methods and the costs. If freed, will I continue to fight for what I believe in?  Absolutely, but it will be with a quill and words within this chamber, not with a wand in battle." With a rustling of the chains, she gestured to the Wizengamot and the chambers.  "If I am damned for my convictions, so let me be damned. But do not damn me for vengeance; enough blood has been shed in this war.”

Minister Bagnold brought her gavel down thrice and looked to the other members of the Wizengamot.  “The court has heard evidence from the barristers, from the affected parties, and from the accused.  Presuming the accused is innocence of the charges specifically indicated by the accused, we shall vote on the remainder of the lesser charges.  The collective punishment for the lesser charges is no fewer than one hundred and twenty days in Azkaban." She gave a moment's rest to let everyone process the instructions.  "Those who find the accused guilty and sentenced to one hundred and twenty days in Azkaban, raise your hand.”

Bellatrix schooled her expression as barely a quarter of hands raised up.  She was surprised at several who did not raise their hands. She guessed they were not expecting her innocence for the unforgivable crimes.  She would have to disappoint them.

“All those who find the accused guilty and issued a measured punishment of reparations from the accused’s accounts, raise your hand.”  More than half of the Wizengamot raised their hand, everyone was quickly counting and it was clear that the request for innocent votes was merely a formality.  For the lesser crimes, the court found Bellatrix guilty. She would walk free if it were not for the remaining charges.

Bellatrix only let an expression of gratitude.  The crowds could not tell if it was for the mercy of the court, or relief at the lack of punitive punishment.  The crowds seemed to have a similar awkward silence at the mixed verdict. She looked to several members of the Wizengamot and saw an expression that needed no legilimency to decipher.  Regardless of ethics or beliefs, there were always wizards who followed the true golden rule.

Minister Bagnold brought silence to the chambers with the thunderous crack of wood on enchanted wood.  “Order! Order! The Unforgivable charges are still to be heard." The Minister looked down to Bellatrix, the hunger and thirst held by a number of people in the chamber was missing from her face.  Bellatrix Lestrange. You sit accused of the use of the Unforgivable curses on another sentient being. The Imperius, the Killing Curse, and the Cruciatus. Each use of any of the three carries the mandatory sentence of a lifetime term in the high-security cells in Azkaban.  The number and manner of the uses you stand accused of, in the judgement of this court, carries the punishment of the Dementor’s Kiss. Do you acknowledge this judgement?”

Bellatrix’s thin smile fell to a neutral expression as she nodded.  The Minister's tone and choice of words revealed the willingness to feed the masses their goat.  “I acknowledge the judgement of the court, Honorable Minister.”

Several members of the Wizengamot and the crowd grinned like there was blood in the water now, or as if they could administer the Kiss themselves immediately in response to her words.  “On the collective charges of the use of the Unforgivable curses, how do you plead?”

Bellatrix’s lips curved into a grin, proud but not haughty.  The Minister had played into her gambit. She was the chess master who put her opponent into zugzwang.  “Not guilty on all charges.”

She would need no personality to defeat the charges; the law alone would side with her.  Collective charges expedited the court's proceedings, as well as sparing the individual recounting of each offense.  The choice also removed the trying of fact and made the case a bench case. She only needed to induce reasonable doubt within the Minister to win.

The crowd went wild with jeers and shouts, flinging accusations at her, and demanding the Wizengamot to declare her guilty.  People did not change as much as they claim to. They may want to move on; but part of them would always be bloodthirsty and craving vengeance.

It took several minutes to calm the room and included several threats of removal and contempt charges.  Finally, Minister Bagnold turned her attention fully towards Bellatrix. Her eyes flashed with determination.  She would not let Bellatrix Lestrange walk free easily. “Very well then. For the first, the charge of the use of the Imperius curse, state your claim of innocence.”

Bellatrix’s tone was calm, bordering on unsettling with its confidence.  “With the exception of N.E.W.T level defense against the dark arts, protected under educational decree 137.1-A, I have never used Imperius curse…”  She waited a moment for the spectator's murmurs to settle before continuing. Her reputation for cruelty and battle madness would come in favor here.  “In my opinion it is crass and unrefined. It is a simple exercise of will over the target. More so, it can be resisted, detected, dispelled, or otherwise countered.  It is far more effective, and satisfying to use blackmail, threats, and intimidation to force someone to act.”

The noise from the spectators was subdued, polite compared to earlier.  Bellatrix's cultivated reputation had swayed the crowd, but it was the skeletons in the Minister's closet that convinced her.  The Minister's hand lacked the same enthusiasm from earlier with the sounding of the gavel. “The court accepts your plea of innocence."  The other two curses were more than enough. "For the second, your use of the Killing Curse, state your claim of innocence.”

Bellatrix locked eyes with the Minister, her expression and posture turning almost cold.  She spoke her words brutally sharp with a low staccato bark. “inter arma, enim, silent leges.”  Her gaze turned to Alastor Moody, one hunter staring down another. “I sit here in chains, while many Aurors and vigilante agents sit free, only by virtue of who shall write the history books.  I do not deny my use of the Killing Curse, and while I may be more accurate with my casting, if my body count is higher than Mad-eye, I’ll kiss a Dementor right now.”

Several of the crowd began to shout for the Kiss.  Alastor's wand rose halfway, twitching with the urge to curse.  It took the Minister a full five minutes and several people removed from the chambers to calm things.  A couple of the more fanatically light members of the court had lost their arrogant smiles, concerned with how the trial was changing.  A few Aurors and Order members were mentally tallying their own uses of the Unforgivables.

Minister Bagnold herself was beginning to show frayed nerves at the intensity within the chambers.  “In times of war, the law falls silent. The Ministry authorized the use of the Unforgivables by the Auror Corps to defeat the Dark Lord and capture Death Eaters.  Their use of the killing curse is not an issue."

Bellatrix's lips curled into a familiar sadistic grin.  "The Auror Corps were authorized, but was the Order of the Phoenix?  What of the Aurors who served both the Ministry and the Order? Was every curse cast done under the aegis of the Ministry, or a civilian militia?"  She looked back to Alastor Moody, daring him to hex her.

"You claim a crime has been committed without directly accusing any individual.  The court cannot charge someone of a crime without knowing who that person is." Minister Bagnold straightened up in her seat as she found her footing briefly.

Bellatrix cooled off quickly, her attention once more falling to the Minister.  "Many Aurors…" She nodded towards Kingsley Shacklebolt and Frank Longbottom. "…even with the authorization to use the Unforgivable curses, only used them when absolutely required.  Some…" She did not need to indicate to anyone the target of her next words. "…when authorized took to it with gleeful enthusiasm. Surely the Ministry's intent in such authorization was not to take rabid dogs off their leashes, but to give the Aurors the tools they required, with the awareness of the responsibility of that power."

Minister Bagnold's sonorus charm amplified the sigh of frustration.  Once again, Alastor Moody and a couple others borderline actions brought trouble to her office.  She looked to the calm expression in Albus's face and debated if bringing the Order members in on charges to put Bellatrix Lestrange away would be worth it.  "The law cannot be selective in whom it applies to, no matter the circumstances. The court cannot; in good faith, punish you for a crime that others have committed for the sake of political expediency.  To do so is to deny the intent of true justice.” Minister Bagnold used Bellatrix’s own phrase. “The court finds you innocent of the use of the Killing Curse. However, the third charge remains." One out of three was still a win in her eyes, especially because of the last charge.  "Your use of the Cruciatus curse is well known, gratuitous in your application and enthusiasm in what can only be described as a sadistic performance. What possible claim of innocence can there be for such acts?”

Bellatrix bared her teeth in an excited grin, some would say mad if they had not seen her calm oratory earlier.  She had the court right where she wanted them, and Minister Bagnold’s leading statement only made her next words shatter what control there was of the chambers.  “I claim Rite of Spellsong.”

Three people leapt the barriers in an attempt to get at Bellatrix, including one Wizengamot member.  It took more than fifteen minutes to settle the chambers, requiring the aid of the assembled Aurors. Doing so required clearing the spectator gallery of everybody but press.  Minister Bagnold declared several Wizengamot members in contempt and had them removed from the chambers. An exasperated and defeated Minister looked to Bellatrix with the expression of a chess player graceful lowering her king.

Mastery tests normally required high marks from Hogwarts, and an apprenticeship under an existing Master.  Only extreme academic excellence allowed witches and wizards to reach the level of skill required of mastery.  The Rite of Spellsong was an ancient tradition that led to the current mastery system, and was still on the books.  It was mastery through experience and practice.

Minister Bagnold had walked right into that defense and she knew it.  The Black family knew the old ways and traditions, and she had declared Bellatrix Lestrange's skill with the Cruciatus curse to be enough to warrant the Kiss.  “The court finds the accused innocent of the use of the Cruciatus curse, pending a successful mastery test, administered by an authorized tester.” Three loud cracks of the gavel and Auror Longbottom unlocked Bellatrix’s shackles.

* * *

 

Bellatrix spent the last three weeks under house arrest.  Three Aurors kept her watched and under guard at all times.  She had been eager when the call to come to the Ministry had arrived, if only to see somewhere other than her hunting lodge.  It had taken the Ministry three weeks to find the mastery test, and Bellatrix was certain most of that was simply clearing the dust off the file boxes.  The last known use of the test was in the mid-17th century. The Ministry easily updated the test to modern standards and practices but it was expecting to have an impossible time finding someone to volunteer as tester.  Severus Snape surprised a number of people by volunteering. His credentials as a Master Occulomens and Albus Dumbledore’s personal vouching brought him here.

Bellatrix paced the plain stone walled testing room; the only individuals inside with her were Severus and Dumbledore, who would be acting as Ministry Witness.  No one else was in a particular hurry to volunteer for that job, despite gaining the privilege of witnessing Bellatrix once-again-Black endure her signature spell.  Her quick pacing and skipping was more to psych herself up than any kind of nerves.

Severus remained in the middle of the room, impassively watching Bellatrix.  His meditated beforehand to ensure his mental barriers would be at their peak.  He had ensured his psyche would be compartmentalized and depersonalized for the test. Separating himself from the sensations of his body would moderate the side effects.  “You are familiar with the procedure? The order of the trials?”

Bellatrix missed a step at Severus’s words breaking her trance.  The pause to catch her step interrupted the steady clicking of her heels that was moments before the only noise in the room.  “Yes, I am aware; I’ve gone over it several times.” She stopped in front of Severus, her battle-lusting grin formed on her face.  She raised her wand and steadily aimed it at Severus, ready to cast. “It’s funny, I never needed to do this to you under him, but I always wanted to see how you would react.”

Severus’s face betrayed no reaction, or even thought, not that Bellatrix would consider entering the mind of her victims, even willing ones.  “I am afraid I will disappoint you. Begin.”

Bellatrix’s laugh edged into a cackle.  “You are one of the few men who could never disappoint me.  Crucio!” She flicked her wand in time with the cry of the incantation, the bright red curse landed straight on Severus chest.  The molten beam stayed connected between them, even as he fell to the ground, screaming and writhing. It was clear to Bellatrix, the flatness of Severus's reactions lacked that spark her victims usually danced with, a side effect of the barriers prepared.  She still put all her effort in the casting and bathed in the agony that radiated from Severus.

She broke the curse after ten seconds and cast it again with barely a breath between.  This round she cast with less effort and with a directed focus. She worked through the prescribed pattern, the varied intensity and sensations, targeted at specific areas of the body in the test-directed sequence.  By the time she was finished with the first part, a light sheen of sweat covered her body and the excitement flowed off her as if it were visible. A more aware observer would say she was looking forward to the next part.

Severus needed several minutes to recover, his mental faculties intact behind the barriers he erected.  His body however twitched with the lingering dark energy from the curse. There was no time limit to continue the second portion of the test.  After a glass of cold water and a toweling off, he was ready for the next part. “Revenge is a dish best served cold, but I prefer my food warm.”  He moved to let Bellatrix take the center. His wand twitched as he drew it from the sleeve holster, motioning for Bellatrix to move faster. “Try not to enjoy this too much.  Crucio.”

Bellatrix’s casting was fiery and passionate; Severus’s was cold, brutal, and as unforgiving as the namesake was.  The reaction and response was the same either way to untrained eyes. Bellatrix remained standing for five seconds, silent for another ten before she cried out with screams of agony laced with something darker.  Everyone's magic had a different flavor to her when using they used the Cruciatus, and Severus’ was immediately recognizable through the pain. By the time she hit the thirty-second mark, she felt the twisting burn coil into something more, something transcendent.  She felt the molten heat of the curse pool between her legs, more than just sweat. She writhed and danced on the floor, a marionette for Severus. Her throat ragged with her screams and cries. That dark broken part of her blurred the lines between agony and bliss, equated the magical torture with a deep carnality that came with the most pure of the olde magicks.  She bathed in the maddening agony for a full minute, the curse brutally fucking her, body, mind, and soul. At the spell’s release, she too found her release, crashing over that blissful edge as her everything reveled in the relief from the curse's effects.

She had three minutes, three minutes to get back on her feet and repeat the pattern from earlier with no mistakes.  Her body twitched and stung with the afterglow of Severus’ curse. Her mind swam with the flood of endorphins and adrenaline that coursed through her body.  She found the will to stand and forced herself to take her place outside of the center. The curse came to her without words, simply her will, and her sadomasochistic soul singing through magic.  She repeated the pattern exactly, no missed steps, no breaks in the sequence. Once she was done, she took a step back and dropped to her knees. She slumped to the side and relaxed bonelessly, a blank and distant look on her face.  It was rare, so very rare that she hit such a pinnacle of painful bliss at the will of magic and she would let herself float in the aftermath.

Severus however only needed a couple minutes to will his muscles back under his control and sign the papers that attested to a successful completion of the test.  He shared a drink of cold water, chocolate frogs, and a lemon drop with Dumbledore while Bellatrix recovered. Bellatrix’s eyes opened, truly opened nearly a half-hour after she fell, awareness had started to return to her far faster than she would have liked.  She felt a deep satisfaction and was in no hurry to dispel it. She cleared her throat and lifted her head towards Severus and Dumbledore. “Water please?”

Severus was quick with the request and summoned water and a straw for her.  He crouched down and brushed the wild damp strands of hair from Bellatrix’s face before resting the straw near her lips.  “Congratulations Miss Black, you are officially a Master Cruciatrix.”

“And innocent and free of any charges.”  Dumbledore added, almost sounding cheerful at the news.  He had the same casually cheerful smile he usually had plastered on his face.  Between two fingers, he held a wrapped lemon drop. He crouched to put it in reach of Bellatrix.

She blinked a few times at the sight and relented in her blissful state.  “Just this time you crazy old coot.” She lifted a shaky hand and plucked the candy piece from his thin fingers before he could speak the words.  She took her time, unwrapping the plastic from the candy. The act gave her something to focus on, as did playing with the sweet hard candy in her mouth, helping herself back to reality.

* * *

 

Dan set the basket down beside himself before opening the cabinet.  He started to pull out several of Hermione’s toys, blankets, and bedding.  He added each one to the clothesbasket beside him, after he checked it for damage or wearing out.  He paused and looked around for the stuffed panther Hermione loved. Dan wanted to get it washed, the only way they could clean it was while Hermione slept.  She rarely let it out of her sight when she was awake. Not seeing it in the cabinet, he turned his attention back to Hermione’s crib.

Dan’s confusion faltered when he saw Hermione curled up with the panther, peacefully asleep.  He sighed softly; his gaze lingered on the sight of his baby girl. She looked so happy. He would let the panther wait for now and took the rest downstairs to wash.  Once in the laundry room, he settled in next to his wife to load the washer. “It never ceases to amaze me, our precious princess.”

Emma paused her folding of shirts to look to her husband.  “What did she do this time?” She had a similar look of love and affection on her face.

“She was curled up around her ‘Wella’ in her sleep.”  Dan laughed softly at the memory of the stuffed panther plush the same size as Hermione.  He debated getting the camera to take a picture. The look on Emma’s face made him pause, the humor dropped quickly from his face.

Emma turned a pale white at Dan's words, nervousness clear in her eyes.  She clenched the shirt in her hands tightly. “I put her plush in the hamper after I put her down.”

“You’re not thinking…”  Dan’s expression mirrored his wife’s at the implication of accidental magic.  “There have been times where I could swear I put her toys away...” Both parents were now mentally reviewing all the incidents and odd moments they could recall.

Emma shook her head and set the shirt down.  She turned to face her husband, worry replaced by anxiety.  “She’s never been seriously sick, just the sniffles for a day or two.  Heals any bumps or scratches.” She hugged herself and looked down while biting her lip.  “I think we need to call your Aunt Blaire.”

Dan swept Emma into a tight hug and rocked her gently, rubbing her back to reassure her.  “It will be fine, love. She’ll always be our princess, even if she’s a witch.”

* * *

 

The first year was the hardest, the shadows and wounds of the war were still fresh and bleeding.  She spent most of her time secluded away in Twelve Grimmauld Place, putting her life and her families' standing back into place.  With Sirius’ help and the time out of the public view, the process moved forward.

The second year, Bellatrix could go outside without being immediately hexed, but there were still frequent threats or insults.  When Cygnus died, she began reconciling with Andromeda. Without his radical influence, Druella and Bellatrix were able to reform the Black name.

The third year, the situation got complicated.  Orion named Sirius, Lord-Regent of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.  Bellatrix was able to become far more visible, becoming the legislative face of the House while Sirius could tend to the business of running the House.

When the friendship between Sirius and Remus turned to romance, the Most Ancient and Noble house of Black faced its biggest challenge and Bellatrix took to it with every ounce of her fanatical devotion she could direct to a task.

Bellatrix’s plans had to change, her entire legislative agenda was completely changed by Orion's declaration and her cousins' coming out.  The first would be legitimizing and sanctioning blood adoptions and fertility rituals. The second would be lifting the restrictions on werewolves.  As much as it was for her cousin, it would also do significant damage to Greyback’s recruitment efforts.

The first part was easy, anything involving the old rites, ancient rituals; magic the most modern integrationists would label ‘dark’, Bellatrix could count on the support of all the old families and Modernists.

The second part would be harder, the Modernists tended towards blood purity, often militantly so.  Lucius would be hostile the entire way. She would need to do research and preparation, which meant long hours within the Ministry library and legislative affairs records.

Bellatrix had gone through every possibility before she brought the proposal to the floor.  She had worked on the wording of the bill, including several long nights with several aides and assistants in Legislative Affairs.  The worst part in her opinion was gathering support without letting potential rivals finding out too soon.

The day of the hearing finally arrived, and she was ready as soon as the doors opened.  She held the proxy for the Black and Potter seats and her ex-brother-in-law would be voting with her.  Only the last steps to get the bill passed remained, the full Wizengamot opened to debates and arguments over the bill.

Lucius swept across the floor towards Bellatrix.  His cane did not touch the ground as he forced himself between her and the aide she was speaking.  “What are you playing at Bellatrix? Do you really spite me so much that you would pollute your House with creatures and mudbloods?”

The grin Bellatrix shot Lucius held back nothing.  She put her full level of sarcastic contempt she had for her brother-in-law.  “Luci, this isn’t spite, it is the right thing to do, though I admit, seeing you defeated today will bring me no small amount of satisfaction.  If I really wanted to spite you, I would gargle Albus Dumbledore’s balls on your dining room table.”

The soft throat clearing cut through the almost visible tension between the two Heads.  The genial smile of Albus Dumbledore pulled the attentions of both. “Lemon drop?” He held out a pair of yellow paper wrapped candies, mirth sparkling in his eyes.

Lucius glared at Bellatrix and Albus, tightening his grip on his cane.  “I dare say you will need it more if you wish to spite me. I must get to my seat.”  He turned and stalked off towards the stairs.

Bellatrix graciously thanked Albus for the offer, but held to her personal promise, never to take the treat from the man.  As Lucius walked away, she lost the fight with herself and had to get the last word. “Now now Luci, play fair.” She turned and walked for her own seat.

The bulk of the hearing was particularly droll, as it covered the technical aspects and procedural minuet of the law proposed.  She did not leave much room in the draft for extraneous additions or riders. She could see Lucius and the Modernist bloc were quite content trusting fear of werewolves and the desire to keep the status quo to defeat the bill.  Bellatrix mentally prepared her speech, waiting for her time to close the arguments.

Bellatrix stood in the middle of the floor before the Wizengamot.  Wild hair had given way to luxuriant locks, and gaunt and exhausted cheeks had returned to bright fullness.  Her corset gowns shimmered like the midnight sky. Her stance, her very posture was the personification of the night goddesses of magic; a paragon of what a Dark Witch aspires to be.

Once Bellatrix was certain she had captured every witch and wizard’s attention, she began her speech.  “Yes, I support this legislation, even if I held no personal stake in the matter, it would still be the right thing to do.  The current treatment of werewolves does nothing more than perpetuate the very reasons that motivate that treatment. Hate begets hate, violence begets violence.”

“Lycanthropy is a disease, an illness with a treatment.  Twenty seven days out of the month they are wizards, our family, our friends, our colleagues.  That one day of the month under the reign of the full moon? A potion taught to our children allows them to control themselves.  I think almost every witch here and a couple of wizards can testify a monthly irritability hardly renders one an outcast invalid.”

“Worse than that, when werewolves are outcast, sent away from our communities in shame, they have nowhere else to turn but those monsters we fear.”

“Hate begets hate, violence begets violence.  These monsters are not born, but created. Policies of control, registration, isolation do nothing but make ourselves feel superior and werewolves feel like beaten dogs with no choice but to fight for scraps.  Treating werewolves as the wizards they are, welcoming them as the friends and family they have always been, will do more to get rid of the monsters than any threatening story told in shadowed fear.”

“If reason does not sway you, then let this.  James and Lily Potter, may they rest in peace, felt a werewolf was a worthy Godfather to the Boy-Who-Lived.  The Lord of a Most Ancient, and Most Noble House felt a werewolf was a worthy consort to his heir. That a staunch traditionalist scion would welcome a werewolf into her house, break bread, and call him family.  Let that sway you. Hate begets hate. Violence begets violence. We are in an era of peace, let the cycle end.”

Bellatrix let her last words hang in the air before she curtseyed graciously to the gathered court stunned into silence.  With measured swift steps, the click of her heels on the floor was the only sound in the chamber as she retook her seat and awaited the vote.

* * *

 

“AUNTIE ADRA!”  Hermione pulled herself standing, leaving her book behind as she raced across the room full tilt into the older woman who had just entered.  “You surprised me!”

Adria Blair scooped Hermione up before she tangled herself into her skirts.  “Hey there Little Bird! Of course I surprised you, I arrived…” Hermione's giggling voice cut off her next words, finishing her sentence for her.

“Precisely when you mean to.”  Hermione’s intent on accurately speaking the words regardless of complexity resulted in a clipped and measured enunciation.

“Precisely!”  Adria carried Hermione to the couch and let her drop from her arms onto it.  “Oye, you’re getting big, my old bones won’t be able to hold you much longer.”  She half-fell on the couch herself, slumping into the cushions with a melodramatic, exaggerated groan.

Hermione reached out to rub Adria’s shoulders, looking almost worried at the sight.  “You’re not old Auntie Adra! You can’t be more than sixty!”

Adria’s chuckles brightened as she looked to Hermione.  “Oh out of the mouths of babes.” She pulled Hermione to sit down next to her.  “Proper posture dear, I want to see you on your best behavior.” She leaned over to whisper conspiratorially.  “And for the record, I’m a hundred and ten.” She sat back up, straight and proper, making sure Hermione mimicked the position.

“Nuh uh!  You can’t be that old, humans don’t live that long.”  Hermione’s exclamation trailed off to a lower, conversational tone as she sat up straight, hands folded in her lap, legs crossed.

Adria smiled and waggled a finger at Hermione.  “Muggles don’t; Witches and Wizards however…” She let the words hang in the air, dangling for Hermione.

“Witches and…”  Hermione’s eyes narrowed, her face scrunching up, the look she had when she was working on a difficult problem or thought.  “Magic is real isn’t it?”

“You are certainly sharp, Little Bird.”  Adria drew her wand from her skirts and held it so Hermione could see it.  It took her a significant amount of concentration, and a clearly enunciated incantation to summon a small silvery bird from the tip.  “Magic is very real, and you are now old enough to learn some of the truths about our family.”

Hermione reached up, catching the small bird on finger.  Her eyes were wide with admiration as she began stroking the ethereal feathers gently.  “I’m a witch? Are you going to teach me how to use magic?”

Adria laughed softly, hints of anxiety within her amusement.  “Yes you are a witch, and sadly I can’t teach you much, when you turn eleven, you will go to a school for witches.  What I need to tell you is about our family line. It all starts almost three-hundred years ago…”


End file.
